


Secret Agent Man

by DizzyDrea



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Romance, Secret Identity, Secretaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 08:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd done this dance for years—every Miss Moneypenny and every James Bond, 007—and while her predecessor had warned her that they issued an outsized ego when they issued the license to kill, she'd scoffed, thinking it couldn't possibly be true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Agent Man

**Author's Note:**

> It's once again my birthday (it comes around every year at this time), and I'm giving you the present. I've never written for Bond before, but I've been a big fan of the movies for years. My dad first introduced me to the movies when I was a kid, and I've seen all of them more times than I can count. If there's one theme running through all of them, it's the flirting between Bond and Moneypenny. I've played on that here, but I've left Bond a bit vague so you can imagine whichever one is your favorite.
> 
> What prompted this story was the notion that James Bond is an alias, not 007's real name, and that the same is true for M's secretary, Moneypenny. It would explain why so many different men have _been_ Bond, and why he's had such a long and legendary career. (At least, it made sense to me at the time.)
> 
> Disclaimer: James Bond at all its particulars is the property of Ian Flemming, Albert and Barbara Broccoli, MGM, Eon Productions and a lot of other people who aren't me. I'm doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Jane Moneypenny stood at the copy machine, waiting for the current job to finish. She'd been under the impression—mistaken, as it turned out—that in the digital age, she wouldn't need paper copies of every report. She'd entertained hopes of never having to file again; no more paper cuts, no more tedious hours spent alphabetizing and cross-referencing.

It was a disappointment, but not a very great one to discover that M preferred things done the old fashioned way. There's value in keeping paper records, her boss had told her.

She sighed.

"Now that sounds ominous."

The familiar voice washing over her sent a thrill up her spine. Jane straightened up ever so slightly, smoothing a hand over her white shirt as warm hands settled on her hips.

"It's such a waste," he said, leaning in close, his lips ghosting over the skin of her exposed neck, "for you to be here on such a lovely day as today."

She melted back into him, unable to stop herself, and frankly unwilling to try. "James," she breathed out.

"Were you expecting someone else?" he asked. "Someone more charming, devastatingly handsome perhaps?"

Her hand fluttered to his hip, brushing lightly before she snatched it back. This man had an innate charm that had left a trail of broken hearts behind him. Despite everything in her screaming for her to lean back into his strong arms, she straightened up and slipped past him, heading for her desk.

She hadn't succumbed to the charms of one James Bond yet, and she wasn't about to start now.

"You are entirely too charming for your own good," she said instead, trying for a reproving look. She feared she'd fallen short, but his expression hadn't changed so maybe he hadn't noticed.

"Not possible, my dear," he said. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his suit pants and sauntered over to her desk, sitting on the edge, one leg dangling in a casual pose that belied the coiled energy just waiting to be released.

His manner was easy, his smile infectious, and she wondered again if there was a mold somewhere that had been broken the day he'd been made. Or perhaps there was a training course that all 00 agents went through, Charm 101. She'd bet on the latter.

"You've charmed women from here to Timbuktu, Mr. Bond," she said, raising an eyebrow, daring him to deny it. "Do you honestly think I want to be the next conquest?"

"You wound me, Moneypenny," he said, stabbing his chest with his closed fist.

She simply glared at him, trying and failing to cover the smile tugging at her lips.

They'd done this dance for years—every Miss Moneypenny and every James Bond, 007—and while her predecessor had warned her that they issued an outsized ego when they issued the license to kill, she'd scoffed, thinking it couldn't possibly be true. 

Except it had been entirely too true. From the first, he'd been kind and considerate, turning on the charm each and every time he entered the Minister's office. It was as if he were following a script, as if the previous 00 agents had explained How Things Work. 

"Tell me, Jane," he said, cocking his head to one side. "What will it take to get you to have dinner with me?"

"And what makes you think I want to?" she asked.

She wasn't going to deny that she did, but she doubted very much that she was on the menu. He was simply killing time until M was ready to see him; that was all it ever was, all it ever could be.

He raised his eyebrow, daring her to deny that she did, in fact, want to. She felt the blush run up her neck and color her cheeks. Damn it, she wasn't going to be that girl, the one that fell all over herself to go out with him.

"I don't believe red hair is the flavor of the week," she said instead, raising a hand to smooth a non-existent flaw in her demure chignon.

"Come now," he said, leaning closer as if he had a secret to tell. "You know you're my one true love. Those other women are pale substitutes. I'm only waiting for you, dear."

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. She didn't think he'd even given her a second thought the moment he left M's office, but perhaps she could call his bluff. She wasn't, after all, the wallflower some of her predecessors had been.

Rising up out of her office chair, she leaned forward, planting her hands on the desktop beside him. In this position, she enjoyed the twin advantages of showing off a bit more cleavage and putting her lips just beside his ear, her breath ghosting over the sensitive shell.

She exhaled, standing so close that she could feel the shiver run through him. A slight smile tipped her lips. So, not quite as unaffected as she'd expected.

"I don't even know your name, Mr. Bond," she said quietly. "And I'm not in the habit of entertaining men I'm not acquainted with."

He tilted his head slightly, brushing her cheek with his own. "Archibald Leach, at your service, ma'am." 

She pulled back slightly, catching his eyes with her own, the question in them clear. But he met her gaze fully, unflinchingly. She'd bet a month's pay—his, not hers—that no other Moneypenny had ever gotten a Bond's real name out of him. Red letter day, then.

"And yours?"

She leaned in close again, whispering in his ear. "Clara Brighton."

She could feel the start of her blush returning. It was such a plain name, so unlike her alias, and a name she hardly ever spoke out loud. M would probably go apoplectic if she could hear them now. Reason enough to do it, though. She hadn't always been the good girl.

"Well, Clara," he said, his breath ghosting over her skin once more. "Now that we're acquainted, have dinner with me."

"If," she said, low and breathy, "you can stand to complete one mission without bedding the first woman to come along, I might consider dinner. An expensive one, with Cristal on ice."

She nipped at his earlobe, smiling at his sudden gasp.

When she pulled back, only far enough to see his face, she was satisfied to see his pupils blown wide, and his breathing a bit shallow.

He opened his mouth to speak, then swallowed. "So, it's a date, then?"

She smiled. "If you think you can handle it."

"Mr. Bond, I'll thank you to stop harassing my secretary."

Jane straightened up, her eyes never leaving his. James sat up a bit straighter himself, his eyes gone slightly wide before he schooled his expression into something more appropriate.

"Miss Moneypenny," he said, tipping his head. 

He winked at her, then pushed off her desk and sauntered into M's office. M gave her an exasperated look, then turned and followed her agent inside, closing the door with a final click that echoed in the now-silent outer office.

Jane dropped into her desk chair, cradling her head in her hands. She couldn't believe her audacity. Flirting with James Bond! She ought to be ashamed of herself, except she'd wanted to flirt with him. In point of fact, she'd wanted him to flirt back, and it gave her a little thrill to think he hadn't been unaffected by it all.

Sitting up straighter, she smiled a wicked smile. If he actually managed to go one mission without bedding some bimbo, she'd be in for the time of her life. 

And maybe she'd just bagged her Secret Agent. Stranger things had happened.

~Finis

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you not in the know, Archibald Leach was the real name of Cary Grant, who was originally considered for the role of James Bond in _Dr. No_ , the first Bond film in the series. Also, Moneypenny's first name is taken from _The Moneypenny Diaries_. I'll leave it to you to decide whether or not Bond was lying to Moneypenny about his real name. ;)


End file.
